Helium 3: Fight for the Future

by Brandon Q. Morris

  They had not yet finished their first orbit when Grisok appeared in the cockpit, looking unusually animated. Had he found something exciting?

  Norok spoke the proper greeting. “Welcome, Keeper.”

  “Let’s dispense with the formalities. I found something interesting,” said Grisok.

  “So, let’s have the report.”

  “I had mentioned the radio waves picked up by the radio telescope. Their sources had all been located in the ecliptic.”

  “Have you been able to decipher their contents?” Norok asked.

  “No, I don’t even have any idea what kind of content it could be. The only thing I noticed is the rhythm.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A rhythm can be seen in the intensity envelope curve. These are regularities that go beyond mere repetition.”

  “They’re probably dancing,” said the Iks from the back, and everyone laughed.

  “Yes, because they’re looking forward to eating us for breakfast,” added Kimikizu’s neighbor.

  He had meant it as a joke, but this sounded like a real possibility to Kimikizu.

  “That’s enough,” Norok said. “Let Grisok continue.”

  “Thank you. The rhythm is not that important either, apart from the fact that every language has an inherent rhythm. This suggests that what we have before us is a language. But what concerns me is the angle constraint of the emissions.”

  “You’ll have to explain,” said Norok.

  “From one hour to the next, the transmissions are coming from an increasingly narrow angle.”

  “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with that.”

  “It means the senders are getting closer to each other and to us,” Grisok said.

  “But wouldn’t the intensity then have to increase?” asked Norok.

  “No. The closer they get, the less transmission power they need. The sum of what we receive remains roughly the same.”

  “Grisok, what exactly are you afraid of?” asked the Iks from the far right-side position.

  “If I am not mistaken, there’s a large number of alien spaceships waiting for us near the gas giant,” replied the Keeper.

  “Then we should turn back as soon as possible,” said the Iks who had asked Grisok what he feared

  “Slow down, slow down,” said Norok. “If, and I want to emphasize the if… if there is someone, that someone covered the distance fairly quickly. That means their ships are faster than ours. If we turn around, we bring them straight to the generation ship. That would be the biggest mistake we could make as long as we don’t know what they want. First, we have to find out if there is anyone there. If it’s possible to speak with this someone, then that’s what our job is. If not, we must stand up to the aliens. Even if they are superior to us, which is not at all clear, with our sacrifice we could give the generation ship more time to prepare.”

  “Thank you, Norok,” said Grisok. “It’s a reasonable plan.”

  “Thank you, Keeper.”

  Grisok turned abruptly and left the cockpit.

  Norok began to dictate a warning to the generation ship that summarized the Keeper’s findings. Kimikizu hoped the Supreme Leaders would react, even if she had no idea what the right reaction was.

  Kimikizu must have fallen asleep. A warning sound woke her up.

  “Ah, the answer from the generation ship,” said Norok.

  He had the message transferred privately and listened to it on his own audio set. Kimikizu saw his face cloud over, and the feathers on his forehead take on a blue tone.

  “I’ll spare you all the claptrap,” said Norok finally.

  “What do they say?”

  “Essentially, that we should just worry about our assignment, and that they alone are responsible for the big picture.”

  This fit with the impression Kimikizu had developed of the Supreme Leaders.

  Kimikizu was startled as another alert sounded. Were the aliens already coming? But it was just the automatic system. The ship was heading for a lower orbit, so it had to brake. She buckled up.

  “Probably, that the Protectors and the Conquerors cannot—yet again—agree. And in case of doubt, nobody does anything,” said Norok.

  The strict social classification system had its advantages when it came to the division of labor, but sometimes it also led to paralysis. Kimikizu thought that the Protectors responsible for internal security and the outward-looking Conquerors should join forces. This had worked well in the past, on the home world, but the long journey without real threats from the inside or the outside had allowed the structures to ossify.

  “If things get serious, they’ll pull together,” Kimikizu said. She really wanted to believe this.

  Another warning sounded. The next braking maneuver, Kimikizu thought. That was fast.

  “Proximity alert,” said the flying machine’s voice.

  Instinctively, Kimikizu grabbed the mask that was under her seat and put it around her neck.

  Enemy Contact

  When the alien’s ship appeared on the Bud’s display, Tolkut couldn’t believe his eyes. It almost looked alive! The slender fuselage ended in a bulge at the top, likely where the bridge was located, which unmistakably resembled the head of a flying animal. There was a section projecting forward from it that looked almost like a beak. The delicate, curved hull resembled the body of a bird. The two wings stretched out wide, which probably made the ship suitable for flying in an atmosphere, and they resembled the wings of a Kelbatz, a dangerous bird of prey on the long-lost home world that the Mendraki had needed to be wary of. From the back, which was modeled after the tail of a flying animal, blazed the exhaust jet of a high-thrust engine.

  The Solstice Bud and the Unity Alone Ensures Victory had been closer to the ‘Bird Ship,’ and reached it before Kasfok’s flagship, the Proud Dance in the Sunlight, which the reconnaissance craft had sent undercover, and Home is a Happy Web, which was under the command of Relgor, Kasfok’s clutch brother. Tolkut drummed the order to turn and get in between the aliens and the two approaching ships that had already opened their weapon domes. Munion, on the other hand, threw himself and his spaceship, the Unity, against the combatants.

  The Dance immediately opened fire on the Unity. Again, Tolkut noticed that both sides were reluctant to use their heavy artillery. While Kasfok and Munion’s ships were shooting at each other and maneuvering wildly to find the best tactical position, the Home was trying to break through Tolkut’s blockade. The Bud aimed a barrage in front of its nosecone, but the enemy ship suddenly executed an avoidance maneuver and dived beneath it. At the same time, Relgor fired on the Bud with all his ray guns had to give.

  Hit in section four, announced Grinmas, the Techweaver. The heat load from the maser fire is being absorbed—saturation level in the heat sinks registers at just under forty percent. The surface mirroring is still holding!

  Tolkut knew that the cooling elements, heat conductors, and heat sinks, all of which had been installed beneath the armor of the ship’s hull to protect against the microwave-generated heat from the maser rays, could only absorb a certain amount of thermal energy. If they were saturated or overloaded, the next hit could penetrate the armor.

  Additionally, the laser bombardment could only be warded off from the partially mirrored fuselage surface for a time. Most of the energy was reflected, but a certain percentage had to be absorbed, which would make the defense mirror dull and less effective after a short time until—finally—a shot could penetrate.

  Avoidance maneuver and defensive fire, ordered Tolkut. Keep the ship between the aliens—

  They’re gone! The remote scout hit the thread so excitedly that the vibrations weren’t clear, and Tolkut thought he hadn’t felt them properly.

  Gone? They can’t just be gone! he drummed back.

  But they are! Look! The remote scout pointed his gripping legs at the main screen excitedly. The bird-shaped ship was nowhere to be seen.

  The Homeland ha
d also stopped firing. They were just as astonished there as they were aboard the Bud.

  They can still be seen on the radar! The scout danced a few steps of amazement. How can that be?

  Tolkut had no clue. Though the bird ship was not visible using external cameras, it showed up clearly on the radar.

  While Tolkut was still staring at the screen in amazement, a tremor rumbled through the Bud.

  Hit in section 12. Vacuum failure! The urgent message vibrated through the thread.

  Change course, change course! Tolkut knew that Shipmaster Relgor was escalating the battle. This tremor they’d sustained could only have come from a railgun strike. Apparently scruples were no longer a consideration, and they were ready to send tens of thousands of Mendraki to their deaths. The Bud accelerated hard and turned for a new course that should take it out of the Homeland’s line of fire.

  The metal bullets, fired at several percent of the speed of light, were not visible in space, and there was no defense against them. They penetrated the entire hull when they struck the ship, and one could only hope there was no vital equipment in their path of annihilation.

  Bulkheads are still sealed, the Techweaver reported. Section has isolated itself, all units ready for operation, loss figure unknown.

  They’d been lucky—the volley hadn’t damaged any essential equipment—but unlucky too, because several Mendraki had lost their lives. Nevertheless, Tolkut was reluctant to answer Relgor by using their railgun as well.

  Now the ship has vanished from the radar! The remote scout’s message redirected Tolkut’s attention to the tracking displays. But now I can see it again!

  The Homeland had used the Bud’s evasive maneuver to chase the bird ship that had now started to accelerate in the direction of the fifth planet.

  Follow it! Tolkut drummed quickly. We can’t lose it!

  On the tactical screen, he could see that Unity and Dance were still locked in combat. Then Unity flashed, and a bloom of fire opened from its fuselage, followed by debris and condensing gases. Kasfok must have shot a space torpedo. So now he was willing to accept the deaths of countless Mendraki. Tolkut felt hatred for the Netmaster rising from within. There were only a few of their kind left, and every life was irreplaceable. It had become clear that Kasfok intended to defend his rank at all costs.

  Tolkut briefly considered whether he should rush to help the Unity, but then the aliens would be doomed. The small ship couldn’t fend for itself against the Homeland. Munion would have to see how he and his Unity could manage on their own.

  In the meantime, they were nearing the outermost fringes of the planet’s atmosphere, which projected far into space. The Homeland could scarcely keep up with the small ship, and the Bud also had to push its engine to the limit to keep up.

  Tolkut saw what the aliens were thinking. Unlike those of the Mendraki, their ship was capable of immersing itself in the planet’s atmosphere. If they could get there, they could disappear into the thick clouds. The Homeland would not be able to pursue them without the danger of being torn to bits by the storm vortices that raged in the atmosphere.

  Behind them, Munion was fighting for his ship’s survival against an unscrupulous opponent and had clearly decided to show no mercy. Tolkut could see that a salvo of bullets from the Unity’s railgun had pierced through the Dance. The small metal projectiles may not have been visible, but the effects of the strike were unmistakable. A series of small holes appeared in the Dance’s fuselage, and smoke, gas, and debris came gushing out. Both ships were now badly damaged, and it wasn’t evident who would survive the battle. Suddenly the Dance turned away and fled. The strike must have damaged important equipment, and Kasfok must no longer see any way to continue the fight, much less win. The Unity fired after the fleeing ship.

  Tolkut turned his attention back toward the front. Even though Tolkut had the Bud giving its all, the Homeland was still closer to the aliens. Relgor must also have figured out what the aliens were planning.

  They’re invisible again, the remote scout announced, only to amend his message a moment later. I see them again, and I have them on the radar, but they simply disappeared from the infrared range. As if their engine were no longer radiating heat.

  Tolkut reasoned that the beings in the bird ship must have a way to mask particular frequency ranges in the electromagnetic spectrum. But apparently not all at the same time! When they were visible, the radar could not detect them, but they had the ability to become invisible to the eye while detectable by radar.

  This made it especially challenging to aim at them. When they were invisible, laser beams would reach the small ship with no more effect than the light rays from the distant sun, and space torpedoes that had to locate their target in the infrared zone had no chance of targeting it. Railguns were radar-controlled, and thus they would fail when the aliens masked this frequency range. It was a matter of pure luck to fire the right weapon at the moment when the bird ship was visible to that weapon. Or not, thought Tolkut, if you—

  The remote scout interrupted Tolkut’s thoughts. They’re vanishing into the upper layers of the atmosphere. This was accompanied by excited dance steps.

  The bird ship had plunged into the increasingly dense border regions of the atmosphere. Relgor also had to acknowledge that there wasn’t much time left if he wanted to do something else. And Tolkut was horrified to find that the Homeland’s Shipmaster had thought of the very same thing he had. There was a way to trick the alien’s defense system! Relgor had figured it out too.

  He fired a continuous salvo from the Homeland’s laser battery, along with radar-controlled railgun projectiles. While the bird ship was switching frequency ranges to confuse the targeting of both weapons systems, Relgor also shot several space torpedoes. The aliens couldn't possibly conceal themselves successfully in the visible spectrum, in the infrared spectrum, and in the radar range all at the same time. Ultimately, it was just a question of which of the three types of weapons would not be diverted.

  The railgun’s shots were the ones to reach their target. Just before the aliens finally disappeared behind thick swathes of the upper atmosphere, Tolkut was horrified to see the bird ship’s head, where the bridge was almost certainly located, practically cut in half. Whoever had not been wearing a spacesuit must have suffocated almost instantly, unless they’d already been slaughtered by the bullets. The ship somersaulted and reeled deeper into the atmosphere’s churning clouds.

  The Homeland turned and sped off without any care for the Bud. It, and Kasfok in the Dance along with it, had accomplished the Netmaster’s goal. The war with the aliens had begun. Tolkut was sure they’d respond to the attack somehow.

  Tolkut was about to give the order to turn and fly to the coordinates where the allied ships were still waiting for him when he saw something that caused him to hold back his order.

  Before the bird ship had tumbled out of sight into the cloudy atmosphere, he had just barely happened to see something being ejected from its ‘head.’ A figure in a spacesuit. Without thinking about it for too long, he issued another—different—command.

  51st of Frien, 298

  She was free. Kimikizu paused briefly, then plunged into the whirling maelstrom. She was going to explore the depths of the wandering vortex. Finally! She had always wanted to do this when she’d observed the gigantic cyclone from a distance. Only the strongest could survive inside. She had trained for years, and now she was going to prove that she was one of the chosen ones—one of those that the young Iks called the Vortex Wings.

  Kimikizu brought her wings close to her body and simply let herself fall. There was no point in resisting the force of the swirling gas masses. You must use the current, and you have to move in the vortex without letting it move you. Her teacher’s words had always sounded strangely contradictory to her, but now she understood them. All it took was raising a single feather to change the flight direction by 45 degrees.

  She moved in the thick wisps of clouds that were co
nstantly changing color and shape. It was like a nightmare, with nothing around her ever staying the same. If she looked away just once, everything would change completely. Kimikizu was grateful for her magnetic sense, because otherwise, orientation would have been impossible. Because of it, she knew that she was still on her way down.

  How deep could the wandering vortex be? She knew it extended from the surface of the home planet up to the stratosphere, but she had no idea how far she’d already fallen. The magnetic field was slow to change in strength. Kimikizu slackened her wings a little to slow her fall, and she instantly decreased velocity.

  Then she realized she was wearing a flight suit and a breathing mask. She was shocked. This violated the rules of vortex hopping! She would be disqualified, but the worst was that she would lose face in front of the others. Should she just tear it off? Maybe nobody had noticed it yet. The suit would disappear into the depths of the vortex to vanish forever. Whatever was swallowed into the vortex did not come back.

  A famous legend of the Iks predicted that the wandering vortex would eventually come to rest and that an Iks nest would be blessed with the riches it had accumulated. The owner of this eyrie would be the future king of the planet and unite all the different realms. The legend came from the time before the civil war that had resulted in the unification of the home world.

  But there was another problem. How could she have overlooked it? Kimikizu was wearing a breathing mask! What nonsense! She yanked it off her face and cast it into the vortex. Kimikizu watched as the mask started to fly away. Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. This was impossible! No matter how high she had been, the home world always provided enough breathing air. The Iks had always been adapted to great heights. Kimikizu had to hold her breath.